


Come a little closer.

by LunnVic



Series: IwaOi Horror Week '18 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: EL COCO, Gen, Horror, IwaOi Horror Week, M/M, Monster!Iwaizumi, Monsters, Other, i dont know where to put the FREEFORM tag, spanish folklore, the thing under the bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 15:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16390298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunnVic/pseuds/LunnVic
Summary: They were green, his eyes.Human eyes.He wondered if those were stolen.________Or Tooru knows there's something under his bed.





	Come a little closer.

**Author's Note:**

> I've just discovered this week is iwaoi horror week and i wanted to write something for it... It's not exactly horror and I wrote it really fast so!!!
> 
> English is NOT my native language and I don't have betas for this one so sorry for any mistake you'll surely spot.
> 
> ________________
> 
>  
> 
> DAY 2: VISITORS FROM THE EMPTY VOID
> 
>  **you are not alone** / the thing beyond the stars / a descent into madness / the all in one, the one in all / a colour out of space / **the abyss stares back** / penguins, specifically this penguin / **an empty space in-between** / what is once opened cannot be closed again / **“tentacles” “like a fuckton of tentacles”**
> 
> For [Iwaoi Horror Week](https://iwaoi-horror-week.tumblr.com)!

He knows it’s only a legend, a myth, a scary tale to make him repent when he’s being naughty, but that thought doesn’t seems to work when Tooru hears its call. And he hears it every night, every time, since he can remember.

At first it was just a slow breathing just under his bed, and Tooru thought it was their cat. He really didn’t know why Sugar had found in that darkness such a cozy space to sleep, but the child couldn’t care less. Even less when the cat let his fingers go through his fur, thick and soft and so different from the feel of it under the daylight. Its purr was different, too. Heavy. Deep. And when a year later Tooru heard his actual cat meowing from the other side of the house it was terrifying, too.

But he didn’t scream, not at all! After all, he was a big boy, just turned twelve, and everyone knew monsters weren’t real. So he just put his hand away from the strange fur, from the strange purr, and closed his eyes. The breathing was still there, though, and from now on there was a wail, too (too low to be from a cat, now that the thinks of it). Tooru could swear it said his name.

So the thing knew his name, but Tooru didn’t know _its_.

Google called it boogeyman, or slenderman, or the _sacamantecas_. This last name sent shivers all the way down his spine, the foreign language making it even worse. Was this thing under the bed after his _fat_? Could it be even possible? To suck it in directly from his body, through a straw, like his father did with those vanilla milkshakes…? No, no. That was his imagination playing games again with him (but what would it… no, what would he use for it? His teeth? His tongue?)

After a few weeks of whimpers, the thing touched him. His touch was cold and jellylike and too-much-of-it-at-once, and Tooru _cried_. He cried because he jumped off the bed and turned on the light but there was nothing there. He cried because there were still marks of his touch on his skin (glossy and sticky like the trail after a snail) but there was nothing there. And then he cried with words, telling him that he would never catch his fat. And, ah, how his mother had laughed at this, tears at her eyelashes and a hand over her mouth. “Aren’t you brave, Tooru, defying the _coco_ all by yourself?”

Tooru wasn’t brave. Tooru was stubborn.

That’s why years later he was rewarded with a trophy (Best setter! Can you believe?), not a single gram of fat on his body and it was the safest he had feel in forever. “Ha!”, he even said to him that night, to the thing that from time to time still tried to touch him, “How do you like me now?”. Tooru laughed and laughed and the thing, for the first time, did something different. He _snorted_.

“What the f…?”

“Did you really think I was after your fat?”

And those were words. Actual words. Distorted and low and with the unmistakable reek of blood coming from them (from under the bed), but words. The creature laughed like her mother had done years before it and Tooru just stayed there, looking at the dark space between the floor and the mattress. There was something there.

They were green, his eyes.

Human eyes.

He wondered if those were stolen.

 

 

Now Tooru is eighteen years old and he has scars from where the thing has touched him over the years, so strong and so vicious he sometimes believes he does it just to mark him. The primal fear is only comparable to the eternal relieve that comes with the sunrise, but those last days before his disappearance he also felt something else. It didn’t have a name, just like the thing, but he felt it inside every time he thought about leaving that house, that monster, behind. It was dark and sticky and it felt just how he touched him but without the blood and the fear. And, if he has to be honest, lately there had been less and less fear and more and more… well, whatever it were.

“Next week I’m gonna leave,” he tells the eyes. “You’ll have to find someone else to scare.”

“You were never scared.”

Well, that’s just half-truth and the thing knows it. The thing he has started to call by a human name lately. He purrs when Tooru calls him by this name and rewards him with one more touch before sleep, the boy thinking about a time when those tendrils swarmed through his nightmares instead of through his body. He doesn’t remember when he started to let him in, but he doesn’t regret it either.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru says, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Aren’t you going to follow me?”

“Why would I?”, answers the coco. “I’m glad you’re leaving. Didn’t your mother say something about a nephew moving here?”

“Don’t you dare touch my nephew.”

The thing laughed.

“Maybe he’ll scream more than you. You’ve been boring.”

Tooru raises his chin, an arrogant gesture.

“You didn’t say the same when you were sobbing for my attention.”

“For your attention?”, repeats Iwaizumi with a second laugh. “No, no. You were afraid of sadness, so I though crying would work just fine. It turned out that you have a savior on you: I was played. You tried to be my friend to put the sadness away.”

Tooru opens his mouth. He wants to say something, he wants to complaint, but he doesn’t find the right words for it.

“Did it work?”

“What?”

“Did it work? Am I your friend?”

Silence. The green eyes are more human than ever, but the darkness surrounding them isn’t. It feels like looking at the sky and realizing there were no stars. Wrong, unnatural. A black piece of space stitched just under his bed. Iwaizumi had called it the in-between and had threatened Tooru to drag him there if he moved more than enough while he was touching him. Now it doesn’t seem so bad. Just another place. Just another corner to explore.

“Come a little closer,” Iwaizumi says.

Like always, Tooru happily obeys. It’s not too long before his dark tendrils starts to wander, grasping his arms, his throat, his hair. Tooru resist just a little when Iwaizumi pulls him closer, making him kneel and crouching his head and shoulders until he looks like he’s begging. Maybe he is. Maybe he’s been begging all those years (to be taken).

“So you want to be my friend.”

“I thought we were already, like… best friends, or so.”

Tooru can swear that’s a smile. A smile without teeth and lips, but a smile. It’s the first time he’s so sure of it, so he smiles back. Iwaizumi’s viscid limbs tighten around his, somewhat anxious, or maybe excited, Tooru can’t tell. He is, too. Excited. In more than one, two, three ways.

“Wanna come in?”

Tooru swallows.

“To the in-between?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer. His body is now all around Tooru’s, cold and warm at the same time. Tooru feels as if he’s being trapped in a spider web, but he trusts Iwaizumi. He trusts the monster under his bed. Tooru doesn’t answer, either, he just nods. He nods again and again because maybe this was meant to be.

Something touches his mouth, caressing his lips until he realizes that’s a kiss. He recoils just for a moment before realizing this is Iwaizumi, too. And if he hadn’t kill him before why would he do it now? So he relaxes against the touch and closes his eyes. Sure, Iwaizumi would do him no harm. He’ll be back in an instant. He will just take a look at the in-between, satisfy his curiosity, satisfy his hunger for knowledge and for Iwaizumi and he’ll be back. Easy.

“Open your mouth,” Iwaizumi orders.

And Tooru obeys.


End file.
